"He who walks with integrity
and practices righteousness,
who speaks the truth from his heart,
who has no slander on his tongue,
who does no harm to his neighbor,
who casts no scorn on his friend."
Some
time ago, two girls were shopping in London. They saw Indian curries in a deli that
would make one drool like Pavlov’s dog. So, they ordered a portion. When the
assistant weighed them, they were shocked at the cost and ran out the shop when
the assistant went to pack them.
Friendship
is a bit like that, some friends find there way to us, but want what they can
get from us, but then run when they get what they want. They are not prepared to
face the cost. Do you find life like that?
As
I grow older, I find myself increasingly disappointed in people. It’s not just
about unmet expectations or personal setbacks—it’s something deeper, something
fundamental about human relationships. The German word Torschlusspanik—the
fear that life’s doors are closing—has begun to resonate with me. But my
concern isn’t about missed milestones or unfulfilled ambitions. What I long for
is something far simpler, yet paradoxically elusive: genuine human connection.
I
don’t mean superficial friendships or transactional relationships where people
linger only as long as there’s something to gain. I mean the kind of bond that
exists purely for its own sake—where kindness, understanding, and companionship
are given freely, without hidden motives. But the more I look, the rarer it
seems to be.
Over
the years, I’ve met people who, at first, appeared sincere—until their true
intentions surfaced. Some were religious, eager to befriend me, only for it to
become clear that their kindness was conditional, a means to an end. Others
prided themselves on being open-minded, yet their tolerance quickly crumbled
when confronted with ideas they didn’t like.
Then there are the ones who judge, convinced
of their own infallibility, those who wield a little knowledge like a weapon,
blind to their own limitations in a kind of Dunning—
Kruger effect.
It’s
disheartening, this realization that self-interest often overshadows genuine
connection. But I refuse to let cynicism win. If anything, Torschlusspanik
has had an unexpected effect—it has made me more determined to seek out the
rare individuals who embody selflessness. These are the people who extend
kindness without expectation, who listen without judgment, who show up simply
because they care. They are the breaths of fresh air in an increasingly
transactional world, proving that not everyone is keeping a tally.
This
journey hasn’t been easy, but it has been enlightening. It has forced me to ask
myself difficult questions: Am I the kind of person I hope to find? Do I extend
the same grace and sincerity that I seek in others? Am I willing to be open,
honest, and kind, even if it isn’t always reciprocated?
The
fear of doors closing—the nagging sense that time is slipping away—has, in a
way, become a gift. It has pushed me to focus not on how many people I know,
but on the depth of the connections I cultivate. It has reminded me that while
true, altruistic relationships are rare, they are not impossible to find. And
perhaps, just perhaps, as some doors shut, others are quietly opening—leading
to the kind of meaningful human connections I’ve been searching for all along.
Some thoughts on friendship
O LORD, who may abide in Your tent?
Who may dwell on Your holy mountain?
He who walks with integrity
and practices righteousness,
who speaks the truth from his heart,
who has no slander on his tongue,
who does no harm to his neighbor,
who casts no scorn on his friend,
who despises the vile
but honors those who fear the LORD,
who does not revise a costly oath,
who lends his money without interest
and refuses a bribe against the innocent.
He who does these things
will never be shaken.
Psalm 15, (BSB).
Tags: Psalm 15, true friendship, Torschlusspanik, selfish friends, Dunning— Kruger effect., pimo
